


Evidence

by mrpicard



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1281100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrpicard/pseuds/mrpicard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A blast from the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evidence

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set right after the season 1 episode "The Battle".

Picard rubbed his forehead in exhaustion. The headaches that Bok's 'thought-maker' machine had caused him were gone, but he still expected them to return any second. He slowly opened the chest that had been transported to the **Enterprise** from the **Stargazer** a few hours ago, took out his old uniform and was just about to put it aside when he felt something in its pocket. He smiled briefly - those had been the days when Starfleet uniforms had actually had pockets! - reached inside and pulled something out. It was an old-fashioned print-out of a photograph. No, not just _a_ photograph. _The_ photograph.  
  
He stared at it... and remembered.  
  
  
  
 _"Oh come on, Jean-Luc. Just one picture!"_  
  
 _"No, really... what if someone finds it, Jack?" Picard was cautious, as always._  
  
 _"You mean what if **Beverly** finds it."_  
  
 _"Yes."_  
  
 _" **You'll** keep it, then. She won't come aboard and look into your closet, now will she?"_  
  
 _"I suppose not, but it's still risky. We shouldn't leave any evidence."_  
  
 _"Evidence?" Jack echoed. "Now you sound like someone who's about to commit a serious crime."_  
  
 _"Is it not an immoral thing to have an affair with a married man? Couldn't this be considered a **moral** crime?"_  
  
 _Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm just asking for a picture of us together, nothing more."_  
  
 _"You know that all this is horribly wrong, don't you?"_  
  
 _"Yes, I do." Jack put his old-fashioned camera on the desk, adjusted it and pushed a few buttons. Then he quickly walked over to his lover who was sitting on the floor in front of the desk. "But you're just so irresistible." He sat down next to Picard, put his arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. There was a bright flash before Picard could protest any further._  
  
 _"Wasn't so bad now, was it?" Jack stood up, walked to the desk and took the camera. "Now let's see if it worked." He looked at the small display and grinned. "It worked. You could have at least smiled, though."_  
  
 _"I didn't **feel** like smiling, Jack. You're taking all this **far** too lightly..."_  
  
  
  
Picard rubbed his forehead once more, unable to hide from the pain the photograph was causing him even after all these years. Jack had been killed a few days after their little camera adventure, and all that had remained of their secret love affair had been the photograph that Picard was now holding in his hands. He even remembered putting it into his uniform pocket a few days after Jack's funeral, using it - as strange as this sounded - as something to draw strength from whenever he thought he could no longer continue to live with the horrible guilt he felt for giving this one order that had killed Jack and caused the Crusher family and him so much pain.  
  
Although they would never know exactly _how_ much pain it had _really_ caused him.  
  
He suddenly realized that it would be incredibly risky to keep the photograph - both Beverly and Wesley were now aboard this ship, after all.  
  
If one of them happened to find it...  
  
No.  
  
He would have to make sure this did _not_ happen.  
  
He would have to destroy the photograph.  
  
Right now.  
  
And yet he did not move.  
  
He gently touched Jack's face with his fingertips, realizing that he would _not_ be able to get rid of this so-called evidence.  
  
It would be like killing Jack a second time.  
  
Without conscious thought he slowly opened the front zipper of his uniform, put the photograph right where his artificial heart was and closed the zipper again. The uniform would be tight enough to hold the photograph in its place but not tight enough to make others notice that it was there - no one but him would know about its presence.  
  
He was suddenly no longer sad that the uniform he was wearing did not have any pockets.


End file.
